Monster Hunter: The Beasts of Minegarde
by NightHunter283
Summary: An enchanting tale of the hunt, bravery, and friendship. The world of Minegarde is overrun by monsters from the beyond the Gates. The hunters struggle to free the land and protect those who cannot protect themselves. Based on the Monster Hunter Games.
1. Chapter 1

A note from the author: This is my newest piece of writing based upon the Monster Hunter games, although more specifically, the playstation portable versions. I have not played the series in quite some time, and so I may make a few errors regarding the monsters and their habitats. If you do see any errors, please do not hesitate to point them out. Also, if you care to do so, please leave a review or send me a PM of what you think of the story, whether you wish to see more or if you enjoy my writing style. As a side note, I have written several other fanfictions of the Monster Hunter world, including Heroes among Legends, Hunter's of Legend and Hunters Origin (one of which was quite popular on the GameFAQs boards at a time), so if you see any similarities, it is because it is written by the same author. I have tried to make the world of Minegarde as vibrant as possible, so please excuse the somewhat lacking action in the first few chapters or so - I am still trying to get everything ironed out first! I have completely reconstructed areas as to how I see them (or how I believe they should be seen) and so bare with me. Pokke, for example, has been expanded so it resembles more of an actual village than just a few buildings, and the world now has some lore to it. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read the story and I hope you enjoy it!

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**Chapter 1** - _The Festivities_

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Fireworks lit up the night sky. The music that was being played was almost inaudible above the din of the festival. Twirlers fizzed, blazing with lights and the echo of muse, cheer and cry floated about the cool mountainous air. Yet despite the cold winds, there was warmth to the on goings, everyone to meet someone new or old, and if not properly acquainted before, they were certainly now. The street was lined with all sorts of entertainment, from contortionists to the musicians and jugglers, scores of dancers, and all manner of women. Magicians kept the children occupied whilst the parents engaged in lively converse, sometimes ending with a great blare of laughter, or cry of disagreement. But the main centre was the roaring fire, crackling and snapping, but never dying – a continuous supply of wood assured that.

The Guildhall was just as lively, if not more so, with its own fire which was magnificent in and of itself even though nowhere near as grand as the one that roared outside. However it was one that certainly held some respect with the townsfolk. _The golden heart of Pokke_. The tables in the Guildhall on this night were reserved for only the hunters of Minegarde. They were all kept happy, some more quiet or drunk than others, but all humoured by one another, unhindered by the incessant flow of all manner of liquors (much to the content of the tender), many swapping tales of daring and terrors. Thick, sweet aromas wafted from the roasting meat spitting and sizzling above the fire on a spit. A slice shaved from the side, along with the other food of the Hall, was enough to feed three men, and one mug of the tender's special brew to have then unconscious before the night was out.

Two boys sat off in a corner of the room at their own table, sharing a slice of the smoking meat and a tankard of hot wine. The volume of the festivities inside the Hall had gotten the best of them, and they finished their meal quickly, tipped the tender, and stepped out into the cool night air, observing the somewhat calmed revels of the town. The band broke into a jolly fast tune, the flutist and strummer playing in union. A few men cheered and rooted for their friend to dance, and dance he did. Along the table his feet tapped quickly in unison with the band, and he added his own lyrics, much to the distress of the townswomen but to receive a cheer from the men. The song ended and the table overturned, and Rion joined in with the great surge of laughter. He helped the drunken man to his feet, only to have him vomit and collapse again. Idias obviously wasn't amused.

"Lighten up, will you. Look, over there, they are about to light up the fireworks again." Rion started forward, his friend close behind.

"He could have been seriously hurt, you know. You shouldn't encourage people who have had far too much to drink."

"Hah, all fun and games! Quickly, I should like to see how they work."

The fuse sparkled to a spit then sent the missile whistling high into the glittering sky, bursting into a thousand shards of light, much to Rion's amazement. "Another, look, Idias! how it dances among the Gods! Let us get another drink from the stall and then watch them."

* * *

As the sun rose above the Eastern Peaks, the travellers and circus folk waved goodbye to the townspeople, nought to be seen again for another three years. Rion watched as the single column of carriages, carts, and clusters of people disappeared around the track until Pokke was once again peaceful and sleepy. He flexed his fingers inside his gloves and pulled his jacket closer. The town was slowly beginning to recover from the previous night's celebrations, which had lasted well into that morning. Oddly, to Rion anyway, was how they always left only hours after the party had finished, barely having an hours sleep each, and most still drunk or with splitting headaches and groggy eyes. The great fire was now but a smouldering pit of ash and charcoal, the tables laden with half-eaten food, spilt drink and the occasional snoring man. Streamers hung from house to house flapping and twisting lazily in the chilly morning breeze and the smell of strong ales and ash wafted about the village. The guards mulled about, with much talk of the sleepless previous night with women who had had far too much to drink (to which at the time the guards should have been at their posts) or the ones who had joined in with the festivities and drinking contests and were now suffering the consequences.

The Festival of Pokke is as it is known in the Lowlands and, to some lesser extent, the rest of Minegarde. It was truly a place to be at on the Midsummer of the Third Year, where the music drifted through the high mountains and low valleys of the Eastern Mountains and the mystical sights of fireworks lit the heavens. Its origins were mostly unknown, as it did not mark any special occasion but for the middle of summer on each third year, although it is commonly believed it pinnacle of creation of the land, which took exactly three years. Others however, including most of Pokke's residents, merely believe it is but a grand moot of people from all corners of the world and a place to swap tales and news.

The last time the festival perturbed Pokke, Rion was but a child, and at the time he had not been allowed to so freely roam about the town at such late hours. Indeed, the hours had passed quickly for him, as he recalled, huddled in his bed, peering up out of his window and watching as the blues and reds and yellows fizzed slowly against the obscure night sky. Both his parents had gone to the festival, of course and at many times he had considered sneaking out, but he knew the consequences had he'd been caught, or should his parents arrived home before he did. Indeed a rebel at heart, but to face his parents when they were angry? He nought dared.

The tables were cleaned of muck and stowed in the warehouse behind the Guildhall, where they were usually not brought fourth again for some time, if not at all until the next Festival. The streamers and ribbons were untied, rolled up and stowed also, as well as various other apparatus forgotten by the travellers. Of course, the travellers were not only there for a celebration, but also brought items to trade, and of course gold to trade with, especially for the rarities only found in Pokke and it's surrounding region. Indeed, the "sweet waters of Pokke" were well known to the rest of the world, and was a commodity that was shipped regularly.

Rion made his way through the village, stepping over a snoring man (who had his arm provocatively high on a sleeping woman's thigh), and made his way to the Guildhall to find some hot food and a drink. Sitting on the steps of the Hall, he looked out over the mountainous ranges and his mind ran with images of flying creatures and beasts with teeth as long has his arm and as white as the moon. The deep rivers that he so wished to swim in, not caring for the cold, and the highest peaks, where the wind tore at the flesh and where the great monsters of the Mountains slumbered…

"Rion!" The boy started awake, his mug of wine no longer steaming and the sun much higher in the sky. "There you are. I was beginning to wonder where you had gotten off to – I've been looking for you for an age."

"I must have fallen asleep, ha. These summer days are so relaxing. Although I really should find mother, she probably needs help with the washing, but you said you had been looking for me?" Rion stood up and stretched, his neck sore from the position he had been napping in. He noticed his bread and cheese had disappeared.

"Yes, come quickly! You will never believe what we have caught. Even now there is a commotion down at the dock."

Pokke consisted of three levels, plotted awkwardly (but with some elegance) against the side of Pokke Mountain. The top was the entrance to Pokke and had to be passed through if travelling over the Ranges by land. It was considered the village square as it entailed the three market stalls, the blacksmith, the Guildhall, the Blue Rock (the hallmark of Pokke), three mansions, the school, the barber, the dressmaker, the barracks and three guard towers, among other things. Indeed, it may have been at the pinnacle of the village, but it was certainly the heart.

The second level of Pokke, reached by stairs from the first and third level, or by a path that forked the road less than a kilometre from the village, was where the people lived. It consisted of over fifty huts packed tightly in against the mountain with but spider webs for streets. It was difficult to manoeuvre a cart between the buildings, lest a large work animal such as a popo, and so it had become an area with little activity save for children's games. There was still much room to spare however, and more houses were being raised with each year as the population expanded. The larger houses were further towards the back, each having much more room and were built into the rock. They also proved to have the best views - two-storied with rooms overlooking the rough paintwork of the Pokke Ranges.

The final level of Pokke, connected to the level above by a winding staircase of rock and wood, or a dumbwaiter system (for which larger produce was lifted on), was the farm. It stretched out far and clawed around the base of the mountain with various sites connived about, each with their own purpose. As a rich mountain, mining was proficient, although somewhat frowned upon by the residents (especially the more destructive means of removing rock). Even though the mountain slopped deeply between the second and third levels, it was still considered too dangerous to dig into the mountain base, and especially so with such method as blast mining. After several months of heated debate between the village's council heads, it was decided that the mining site had to be moved two hundred metres, to where there were no houses directly above, and that the amounts of powder used in blast mining was restricted to specific amounts. With much grudgingness, it turned out to be a lucky move for the village, as they had found a rich deposit, with far more ores in both rarity and quantity than the previous area, and consequently any grudges were soon forgotten. The mining area had developed quickly, soon with three levels of scaffolding, and newly blasted spider webbed tunnels on the bottom and middle. The top had proved rich with rare ores and delicacy was being taken to remove them.

Another proud feature of Pokke farm was its newly constructed dock (more rather a few jetties, a small shipping bay and warehouse, but a dock nonetheless), and it was the sentiment of the village trade economy. "The Fleet" consisted of five crafts – a twelve-man gig, a flat-bottomed raft, two single masted trading vessels and a small fishing trawler. It was at the latter, or rather the wharf where it had been docked at, that the commotion was emergent. A long, thin creature had been caught early that morning in the fishing net, and was discovered when they had returned. Cast on the jetty, the fishermen were lifting the dead creature's limbs with a knife and inspecting it. It resembled an eel but with legs and an oddly shaped head. It'slimbs were a pale green and it's bluish fins looked underdeveloped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2** - _The Attack_

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"A plesoith – or rather, one in it's early stages of growth. It is good you brought it to my home, and did not cast it away." The hunter lifted the tiny creatures limp head with his finger, before opening the jaws and inspecting inside the head. "Perhaps only two weeks old. This is unusual. They would not willingly leave the warm currents of the desserts and jungles. I have never heard of such a thing."

Hunter Graye was the village's hunter, and had been for twenty five years, when he had been but a youth. Ever since he had been assigned the role, he had lived in one of the villages three mansions, a luxurious, two storied affair with four rooms with a complimentary team of chefs. He scratched at his beard, a beard that was slowly beginning to streak with grey, before he sat down in his chair and slipped into a thoughtful gaze. The man was not growing senile, far from it in fact – but he was showing his age, nearly fifty, and was known for his love of spirits just as much as his hunting skills. The village Elder stood up now and began to inspect the creature herself. "What could this mean, Edori?" she asked wistfully, looking over at the aged hunter who was now feeding the crackling fire more wood. "A change in the creatures habitat, perhaps?"

"A change, indeed, ma'am, although _what of_ is the question. Nourishment would seem the most likely, but what could be causing a lack of food, I have not heard of anything. Although…"

Idias piped up, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Last night… I… I overheard some of the travellers talking about the amount of attacks of monsters has been increasing. One man said that he had lost two of his animals in a week to trails on the way here that were usually peaceful. He said that it was no longer safe to travel the forests without a proper protection."

"Indeed, if my memory permits me last night, I am sure the conversation strayed onto the thriving trade of the hunt. I did not think much into it, as we have had not had any unusual activity north in the past month as far as I can tell. That is to say, of course, that I have been but twice out this season and only to ease the amount of giaprey in the area." Graye leaned back in his chair and rapped his knuckle on the hard wooden armrest. "I shall have to send messages out with the next trade. Aye that I will."

"Yes, that is a good idea." The village Elder tapped her short cane against the wooden table leg quetly. "Ah, young master Ymeti," she said, looking at Rion, and smiling warmly. "You are to finish school soon, are you not?"

Rion was fourteen, and was soon to turn fifteen, an age where he would choose his future. Long had he pondered over this with his mother. Most boys would have followed in their father's footsteps, but after the accident, his mother had been hesitant for him to go anywhere near the mines. No, he had somewhat decided what he was going to do. "Yes ma'am. Not four months today."

"And you will work in the mines will you – no, you won't. You will not, or are not permitted to do so."

Rion looked uneasy until she smiled and said, "but there are many other occupations we need filled, and I'm sure you have nearly made up your mind." Rion responded to the implied question, "Yes, ma'am. I wish to become a scholar, ma'am, and study in the universities of the Lowlands. An astronomer – to study the heavens, ma'am."

"A scholar you say!" Graye almost roared with laughter. "I have never met a lower people! They waste their days away reading and learning of things that are of no help to anyone. Indeed, while we risk our lives killing they huddle in their rooms with but candlelight, a quill and some parchment, and say they are doing us good. Pah!"

"Now, now, Edori, if the boy wishes to study, then that is his choice… however I – "

A sharp cry sounded from outside the house and a bell sounded three times. Moments later, the light buzz of noise from the markets grew silent as the last door creaked shut and the village of Pokke became quite, desolate to the eye, but with each soul cowering within their homes.

Hunter Graye was up and clipping on his sword wordlessly. His rough fingers gripped the buckles of his armour and pulled them tight, the leather creaking in protest but the metals clinking in encouragement. His boots were donned, as was his helmet (to which he adjusted carefully) then he went to the door and opened it so a tiny slit of light fell across the floor and highlighted the dust that floated about. The man's arm was trembling ever so slightly as he gazed out, but his face was hidden and his other hand lay gripping on the sword handle above his head.

Rion could only remember of this happening once as a very small child of five, and was surprised he did. He was huddled in his mother's bosom, unknowing of what was happening at the time but that he was to stay very quiet and hold daddy's hand. It was only after that he had learnt that a creature had been spotted flying about the mountains further to the east. Only after a period of hours had passed that the bell sounded twice – that all was clear – and people began to leave their homes, if not somewhat hesitantly, and the day had continued. Idias looked nervous and was rubbing his palms on his trouser legs.

A rhythmic beating like a drum grew louder and louder until it seemed the house was vibrating with each stroke. The village Elder looked as calm as ever and hobbled over Idias, who was now sweating profusely, and offered him a kerchief. He took it and wiped his forehead and then gazed up at the roof as though he could see between the beams and thatching. Rion swallowed drily then stood up and quietly walked to the old hunter who was now breathing quickly. Each of his gasps whistled through the helm, and his hand snapped out and gripped Rion's jacket collar to brought him close, gesturing for silence. He moved carefully aside and let Rion peer through the gap.

The great beast was silhouetted against the sun. Each beat of its mighty wings sent dust scattering and it landed with such grace and elegance that Rion had ever witnessed. Rion only caught a quick glance before he was pulled aside roughly and the door shut. The hunter stood still, unsure what to do. The guards had remained quiet so far, but from where they were he would be unable to signal them without alerting the beast. He had not faced such a beast for long years, and he cursed himself for reacting like such a coward. And yet deep down, he knew the fear would take over quickly if he did not do something to occupy his mind. He had seen it many times in boys who had such egos, such ignorance and who believed they could face anything. But they fled at the first sign of any real danger. He had never faced such an adversary, and it had been long winters since his last great battle had been truly fought. This beast was to him a myth, one he had seen only once before…

A huge crash and a sudden roar echoed about the village. The rat-ta-tat of the snare rolled on quickly and sharply but was drowned out under the battle cheers and thunder of feet. Not moments later, there was the twang of bowstrings, the hiss of arrows and of swords against scabbards, the scrape of metal on hide, and the blood-curdling screams of those fallen. Hunter Graye trembled and Rion looked on in horror as the men turned his face and let out a sob. Idias was now huddled up in the corner of the room shaking violently, the village Elder still wiping at his forehead. Rion's throat was dry but he was inwardly furious. "Go! The men are dying! Our village is being destroyed, and yet you tremble here crying! You are no village protector! You deserve no title of hunter. You are a coward!" He screamed the last words, and then suddenly the great figure of Edori Graye was looming above him, and he received a sharp strike in the cheek with a gloved hand.

The door swung open and the din of outside amplified, before they settled back with a thud. A hoarse cry shouted out and the rasp of metal on hide followed shortly. Another crash and thud sounded out with the tangent of a scream. The cries of the creature were getting more frequent and louder in rage, and screams rolled up from the second level. The shrieks of the soldiers, both still fighting and those who were wounded haunted the village. Even the air felt rancid and bloody.

Abruptly the battle fell silent, all but the groans of the wounded and the slow rhythmic chew of gnashing teeth, feasting on the still half-living men who gurgled out their last cries before being torn apart.

Rion went to the door, his hands shaking copiously and his face dripping with cold sweat. He pulled down on the latch the bolt gave way, and soon he was staring out into a field of blood and destruction. But his eyes lingered not on devastation of his village but on the beast before him. With it's back turned, Rion stared in horror, frozen as his eyes watched the tail swing back and forth. The ripples of the muscles on the back of the monster, the loud chewing, the trembling wings, the sharp claws - all absorbed into Rion's mind. The creature was covered with blood, streaks of black-red cuts and the stumps of arrows protruding the hide abundant, and yet it feasted on in an insatiable hunger. The blood stains contrasted with the creature's palled golds and blues, among the likes Rion had never seen… How they glittered in the light so… Then it raised it's great head towards the heavens and swallowed, a string of jelly-like flesh falling from it's jaws.

Suddenly he vomited at the scene. He coughed and spluttered before collapsing into a heap, his eyes clenched tight. There was an uneasy silence that followed, and abrupt stop to the chewing and a tension grew in the air. He tried to stay still, to stay quiet, to let the cold breeze brush his skin without a worry, to let the peace and the warmth of his clothing lull him to sleep and bring him forth of this nightmare…

_Boom!_ The earth trembled and the air vibrated as the creature turned and let out a great cry that so tore deep into Rion's ears he held his hands against them. Then his eyes clouded over and his bottom lip trembled with fury. Tears streaked his face and he stood up, quivering with anger and voracity for revenge. He looked into the creatures eyes and ran forward, unafraid now, not knowing what he was to do when he got there, but all he wanted was to reach his goal.

Like a refined move, his fingers bent down and grasped at a sword that lay bloodied on the grass, only inches from its previous owner's lifeless fingers. It felt unusual but soon his grasp relaxed into the grip's cambers. The monster arced it's great head down low to the ground and flared its wings, as though Rion radiated some great presence. But as the boy got closer, the creature snarled and then like lightening, its great maw snapped out. Rion lurched from the clamped jaws, and all of a sudden a fear gripped his heart, colder than any winter frost and sleet. Like an icicle from the coldest peak was driven through his heart. And he stumbled.

The ground rushed up hard against his back, his head striking against stone. A huge looming, grinning like head swayed above him, observing him, taunting him, as though to say "what a pathetic creature… so weak and fragile…" and then Rion's anger flared again, his eyes growing sharp as crystal, his arm twitching with anticipation.

He swung with all his might, slicing true against the creature's face, and with a great sad cry the monster reared back, screaming, blood streaming from it's head. Its hulk rolled against the Guildhall, crushing part of the roof and causing its inhabitants to cry out in fear, until it leapt – or rather fell – from the cliff completely disorientated and enraged. There was a long swoosh and then the creature soared away to the east, to be a mere dot on the horizon against the mountains.


	3. Chapter 3

And here is chapter 3. The action really kicks up at about chapter 5, so bare with me!

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**Chapter 3** - _The Council_

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The bell sounded once, followed closely by the long note of a horn. Silence but for the bonfire crackling and rearing, radiating a blaring heat but not warming the chilled body. No fires of the world could warm the mood in Pokke that day.

A crowd of people, a sea of unwavering relentless anger and sadness. Mothers shivered and sob, hugging their husbands and the children looked about, clasping tight to their parent's leg. Rion watched - his eyes alight with the flame and yawning sadness as they wandered over the row of bodies, all wrapped up tight in grey blankets. Then one by one, the fallen men were lifted onto a stretcher, doused with oil and then suspended above the fire until his body turned unto ash once more.

The village Elder stood against the wind, a parchment trying to escape her grasp as she read the names. Her faces strained with each word and Rion stared at her, watching her, waiting for her to stumble on a word. And yet she did not, not even at the last, "…Edori Graye, village hunter…"

Rion swallowed and gripped the hunters sword in his fingers, then approached the great flame and stabbed the sword deep into the earth, as did the others, all carrying the fallen warriors swords. He stepped back, shoulder to shoulder with Idias and his mother, and swore a silent oath, a secret revenge against the creature that had devastated his village.

The creature with the one eye.

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"We are in need of a new hunter."

The Guildhall fell silent as the council looked about one another. The village Elder stood and paced the room in deep thought. She was old now, almost eighty-five, and had been the village Elder for thirty-three years, ever since her husband fell ill and died. She was much loved by the people; however she usually withdrew herself from the village folk and preferred to stay by the fire all day with her felyne, sunk deep in thought.

"If what Hunter Graye had spoken was true, then we must find a new hunter as quickly as possible if we are to defend ourselves." Ped Eosti spoke down in his deep, rolling voice. He was the village Guardmaster, charged with defending against any large outbursts of monsters surrounding the village. "My men were slaughtered – I am left with but five men able to fight. We cannot defend against such large beasts – we simply do not have the skill nor experience, and we do not know the creatures as well as a hunter does. Without someone to protect us against large encounters, we can do nothing against the great beasts that haunt our village, and one more attack like that might force people to abandon us."

The council members shifted uncomfortably, some murmuring agreement, others remaining silent. They had not faced such a situation before, and it was beginning to dawn on them that they must make action quickly, or suffer the consequences. Much like the atmosphere inside the Guildhall, Pokke had become sullen and afraid. The joy that had reigned only four days previous was now forgotten and the energetic business of each day had sunk deep into a deep, threating depression.

The top level had been devastated, with both the Guildhall and smithy needing repairs. One market stall had been crushed completely, and a guard tower had been struck in the combat and was now threatening to topple. The water pulley had also been wrecked in the engagement and the water had to be carried down to the third level – from the top – by hand, a dangerous and time-consuming business. The erected sickbay contained seven men, one of whom was not believed to be able to last much longer, having suffered a severe depression of the skull and lost an arm and a leg along with plentiful amounts of blood. A couple of the others had been wounded only lightly, one with a concussion and the other a broken arm. The rest either were missing limbs or were recovering from deep cuts and fractures.

Idias had volunteered to help the medical team, and had quickly gotten over his fear of blood. He had even saved a man's life whose leg had turned gangrenous and was in need of amputation. The surgeon was busy setting another man's bone back into place and could not perform the operation, and so Idias had. The boy seemed to have a natural talent for it, despite his fear of blood, the village Elder had observed. Indeed, he certainly had the makings of a fine doctor in him.

"Is all well to say, Guardmaster, however we cannot so easily find a hunter to replace Edori with such fluctuation of creatures in the Lowlands. It may be many, many months before we can find one looking for a job and willing to live in the north." The Elder rested upon her cane and scanned the small group. They were looking to her for guidance, for none could have predicted such a problem. Indeed, even she did not know what to do. Then a tiny voice spoke up from the back.

"What if we were to train one of our own?" It was Dain Merfone, the youngest of the council and the newest addition. He was known for his skill with numbers, and had become part of the villages trade representatives. He looked after all the on goings of pricing, quantities and schedules of the trade economy. "What I mean to say is we have the knowledge stowed away in the warehouse, as well as other scripts written by Hunter Graye, along with a skilful smithy who can craft the weapons and armour. Surely it is worth a try?"

The village Elder had also pondered over this, and she had been seriously considering it, however a willing person would need to be found among the villages teenagers, and then to train him… but who?

Ped stood up and scratched his balding scalp. "'tis an idea, true, but to find one willing to put his life on the line against the creatures of the wild, one, dare I say, stupid enough. With the recent attack I fear it may deter any boys who think they are up to the task. But that boy, Ymeti, he drove the creature back you say?"

"The child denies he did anything special and that it was in anger he attacked the creature, however I think he misses his own bravery. Indeed, we need not someone overly talented with the sword, however much that might help, but someone stupid with bravery to take to the terrors of the wild." The village Elder sat down and at last said, "We should put forth the question to him, at the least. It is all we can do for now."

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Another slow, gloomy day passed, with even the sun hiding behind grey clouds. Sleet had begun to hiss through the mountains and was now hitting Pokke, covering it in a blanket of white. It was still summer in Pokke, but the cold was never-ending. It was that day however, that the fateful news reached the village in the hands of a cold, shivering messenger, who had collapsed in a heap at the entrance.

An emergency council had been called in the Hall and the man had been attended to by three felynes who had wrapped him tight and nourished him with fish and hot wine. He now sat by the fire, looking quietly at the on goings.

"The Fortress has fallen." The village Elder said quietly, he eyes rolling over the words of the scribbled letter. A great clamour of voices suddenly broke out from the group and the Hall filled with cries and shouts, along with mutterings, quite conversation and heated arguments. "The beasts of the lands beyond now roam freely through the Gates and are now swarming over the land. The Fortress fell almost a fortnight ago, but the news is only beginning to reach the outer regions of Minegarde now. Even now great campaigns to retake the Fortress are being planned, although the letter mentions a "great beast" that guards the way. With every day, the creatures swarm through. It is now unsafe to travel the Lowlands and the creatures are swarming in masses to the Highlands as we speak."

Arguments rattled about the council on plans of action, some crying that we must flee further north, others stating the duty they held to Minegarde and that all that can be done to help should be done. Shouts of "madness" and "cowardice" echoed about the room, the arguments growing more and more heated with each minute. Guardmaster Ped stood up and drew his sword, then slammed it into the table with a great boom. The room quietened almost immediately as they all saw his crimson face and his upturned lip.

Tensions in the room began to grow from anger to desperation as they looked to the Elder. She tapped her finger on the wooden table top and swallowed. "We prepare defences and send those willing to fight to the Lowlands. We defend the pass. But first, we must find a new hunter. You there, go find Rion Ymeti and bring him here."

Rion was wringing out his wet clothes when the sharp rap came at the door. His mother, now in her early fifties, went to the door and opened it. The howl of wind came screeching in and she told the young boy to come in and to close the door behind him. She looked at him and when he did not say anything, she told him to say what he wanted.

"Ma'am, the council requests Rion Ymeti at the Guildhall as quickly as possible."

Rion's mother frowned. "A council is being held? I was not aware one was being held. Did they say what for?"

"They did not."

"Very well. Rion, get your jacket and gloves on, it is cold and dark outside."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4** - _The Lessons_

* * *

"What the hell am I doing?" Rion groaned, face down in the dirt. His breaths were ragged and he felt the dust cling to his throat and tongue, forcing him to gag and cough. His skin felt like an icy tomb, wet with perspiration but the cold bitter winds making him shiver. He wore nothing but loose trousers, torn at the heels, and leather sandals. His body protested with each morning, muscles seizing up, pain that made him tremble. But against his will? No, his own will forced him to do it, to overcome his physical pain and push on, long after he should have given up.

Each morning was the same, waking up before the village did, stripping, then the plunge into the icy-cold water for minutes beneath its surface in pure concentration, lungs screaming in protest and battling against his will. His shocked limbs carried him to the barracks where he underwent a vigorous training session with the Guardmaster in hand-to-hand combat. Always he was defeated and came out with bruising to the ribs, black eyes, bloodied mouth and dislocated fingers, but he kept going. He studied in absolute silence for hours until the sun rose and climbed high into the sky. His eyes were far weary by then, tired from skittering across line after line, examining and storing away the information he so needed to learn.

… _several more by unnamed anthers, gathered together in four volumes under the name of _The Tactics and Manoeuvres of War_ outlining the basics of that which governs all militia training in Minegarde. Such examples are as follows: the circle of life (ref. No 22), pike rows, volley by arrow, volley by arrow advance, shield wall, guard by ranged weapons, guard by melee weapons…_

… _ingredients required vary from location to location although most can be substituted for others if in dire need, however this can lead to possible life threating illnesses and is not recommend. See list of possible substitutions (pp. 349, "Substitutable Ingredients" col. 7) and the aforementioned list of dangerous combinations. Care should be taken when combining goods that have effect on the mind or bodily functions and should always be tested first in small doses…_

… _conditions that vary greatly from coast to coast but with similar climates. The desert spreads out far east, away from many large cities except of the sand city of Turono, which is now a desolate ruin. There are tracks leading through the dessert; however they are dangerous and unguarded, but can provide a much faster route through to the other side if the need arises rather than taking the Golden River or the road around the sands…_

Rion pushed his body up, his mind still racing with the information he had recited and that was now buzzing around in his head. His body ached, he was bleeding, and he was bruised. He barely felt the cane against his back, but as his face struck the dirt he grew angry. The cane came down again, the abuser shouting words that were dulled in his ears that he took no care to understand. His eyelids began to quiver and his fingers tightened around the grip of his sword. The cane came again, a sharp whipping sound, again and again… crack! ... crack! ... crack!… He felt the muscles in his shoulders ripple with anticipation and his legs screamed at him.

His arm arched around, the wooden sword connected with the jaw of his beater. The air swelled with a cheer and he leapt to his feet, his eyes unwavering on the stunned figure before him. And then suddenly he swung out of his own accord. He had always been hesitant to attack his teacher, but now his anger controlled his arms, and he was relentless. Ped stepped back, clapping the young man's sword on his own shield, dropped his cane and drew his own sword. There was a flurry of movement and the wooden blades clacked and snapped and hissed and cracked, meeting in a torrent of dirt between the two figures. Rion attacked in pure anger, pushing the older man back, slicing and stabbing his sword when he could, blocking with his shield from an overarm swing, then lunging to bluntly stab.

The roar of the onlookers blared onto the field as they watched the two fighters attack one another. Rion's shield slammed into the jaw of the old Guardmaster and he tumbled back. As he slid to a stop he cried for mercy and dropped his sword, grasping at black wounds along his body. Rion screamed in rage and raised his sword, his eyes seeing the beast that had attacked the village, glittering with anger, his sword a thin long blade made of the hardest metals to kill the beast with one foul swoop…

"Rion! Stop, lad, stop, please…!" The burly voice of the trainer reduced to nothing but a soft plead. "I wield, I wield!"

Rion was breathing heavily, his throat parched, his eyes darting back and forth, his body drenched in perspiration, his blood pumping blood quickly through his limbs, and the feeling of battle controlling his mind. Slowly he regained control and dropped to his knees. He swayed, his fingers loosening on the sword before he fell onto his side, slipping from consciousness.

* * *

Idias crushed the herb between his fingers and then nibbled at the sprig. It was surprisingly minty and sweet, and let off a strong aroma. The small area was plentiful with them and he stripped the stalks of the tiny leafs and packed them into his satchel. He was beginning to grow a great fondness for all things in the nature, kindling within his love for medicines. He had indeed grown proficient in working with natures gifts to create all sorts of remedies for the sick and injured, and insured he had a large collection at hand if his skills were required.

He also had an impressive collection of books relating to the topic, and he studied them thoroughly whilst making his own additions, specifying from the most important facts right down to the tiniest details that could only be spotted by a talented eye. Indeed, he wrote down all things he observed, whether a plant or an animal, and made sketches of them in his books for future reference.

His medical abilities had been much help to Rion whom came to see him every afternoon to tend to his wounds. The two were barely able to spend any more time together than that hour or so every afternoon since he began his rigorous training five months ago. Idias remembered when the two were best of friends one time, when they would do everything together: laugh, cry, cause mischief and grow tired playing in the small alleys of Pokke with the other children. Now there was no time for any of that. They were both growing into men – Rion taking the path of what was a hunter, and Idias, a physician of sorts. Two completely different different lives.

A growl rolled through the trees and Idias immediately looked up. Before him was a Giadrome, not twenty meters distant, gnashing it's sharp teeth hungrily. It was sniffing at the air, making small cooing noises, eyes darting to and forth. Suddenly the two locked gazes and Idias reached for the knife at his belt. The fear was coming back, slowly wrapping it's cold, deadly fingers around his heart and squeezing, squeezing…

The Giadrome lunged, squawking a terrible note of attack. Idias turned and fled, the trees rushing passed his eyes in blur of green, the roots grabbing at his legs and the tree branches clasping his clothing. He broke into a clearing and saw the river ahead. The Giadrome was slow in the trees but in the open it bounded towards him, quickly making up the ground between the two. Idias knew the creatures were pathetic swimmers and as he covered the last few steps, he forced his legs against the ground and tumbled over the five meter-high bank. His body struck the icy water and he was plunged into silence and darkness, his arms frantically trying to push him up but the current dragging him beneath the surface.

* * *

Rion sat in the sickbay, his head resting against the wooden bed-post. His eyes lingered over the mirror opposite the bed and he tried to examine the man who stared back. No longer a boy, his muscles were now lean and taut under his skin and his body was covered with long red gashes and deep purple blots. Who am I? The door to the tent flapped open and in bounded a chestnut felyne who he recognised immediately as Lucy, a worker on the farm. She was panting softly when she leapt on the bed and delivered the news.

'Master, nya! You must come quick, master Rion. They have pulled your friend from the river and he is ill. Quick!"

Rion was already up and pulling on his fur coat, his mind racing. Why was Idias in the river? He should have been back an hour ago. Is he all right? Will he live?

Rion took the long flight of steps down from the first level to the second, his legs moving quickly and precisely as to not miss a step. He raced through the cluster of house then down the second flight of steps to Pokke Farm. Lucy was quick on his heels, purring lightly. The farm was busy with commotion, Idias's parents kneeling beside the boy as he coughed up water, both exchanging worried glances.

"My work… all my work…" Idias rolled over and vomited on the grass, coughing and spluttering as water poured from his mouth. He was wheezing heavily, and was clearly irritated.

"Idias! What happened? What is going on?" Rion kneeled beside his friend who was now pushing himself up. "Are you well?"

"Yes… yes, I am fine." He wheezed in reply, coughing more and shuddering, even after Rion had given him his jacket. "There… there was a G-Giadrome. It chased me through the forest and I leapt into the river to get away."

"Idias… where were you? How far were you from the village?"

"Close. Not a four miles distant."


	5. Chapter 5

Feel free to review. The action starts to kick in here.

* * *

Chapter 5 - The First Blood

* * *

The helm felt uncomfortably heavy in his hands and he shifted it watching as his reflection skittered and morphed across the dull grey. The blue eyes that looked back at him he barely recognised. His mother came up silently behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her hair smelt of a flower and he smiled, closing his eyes, locking the aroma into his memory. She pulled him down and kissed him on the forehead, muttering a few words that made Rion tremor with sadness, nervousness and pride. He hugged her hard, whispering "I love you, mother," then he stepped back, pulled on the helmet and secured it with nimble fingers.

The door creaked open and he stepped out into the whipping wind and snow then he disappeared into the whiteness without another word spoken.

* * *

Idias stood waiting at the entrance of Pokke, wrapped tight in his great furs, his nose pale red against his skin and his lips blue. He hailed Rion as he saw the twinkle of his armour. The dark shape took form shouting words inaudible over the roar of the blizzard. Idias pulled him closer and cried, "I'm coming with you!"

"What?" Rion shouted back, lifting the guard off his face and squinting against the rush of snow.

"I said I'm coming with you! I am prepared! You will never make it back alive without me!"

Rion shook his head and shouted for him to go back to the village, but Idias was persistent and grabbed his arm. "No! I come with you! I have medicines that will keep you alive in this weather and after you battle, but they must be taken in doses that only I know! I can protect myself," he gestured at the long knife clipped into his belt. "I'm coming!"

The track down the mountain was a slow, winding one made far more difficult in the howling storm. The two could barely see one another and so were connected by a rope, tied to each other's waists. Idias led, knowing the way to where he had spotted the creature two days passed. The day after the incident the wind had begun to pick up and the first ravaging blizzards (which could last for days on end) picked up. They could not waste any time and the unpredictable storms forced them to go as early as possible. They need not put the town at risk to wait for the winds to die down.

The base of the cliffs sheltered them from the winds and they made camp there, starting a fire and unrolling their beds. The night was an icy, noisy one and neither of the two boys got a proper rest, eating what rations they could to keep up their strength and finishing a vial of hot drink each. The warm liquid warmed their innards as it trickled down their throats, but it provided no protection from the biting winds that tore at their flesh, even with their cloaks and furs pulled tight about them.

* * *

The rush of the river grew louder and Idias roared something, pointing in the direction of the rapids. They made their way over and Idias studied the bank before nodding and pointing down. Rion acknowledge the signal but he did not know what to do. A cluster of pines up ahead seemed the most likely place to begin and he pointed in the direction of the small forest then tugged on the rope. The two made their way under the greens that offered enough protection from the winds and noise that they could communicate with words.

"This is where I was gathering mountains herbs. Right at this spot." Idias looked about, scanning the thick undergrowth for any signs of the monster. "I have read some on the Giaprey – they hunt in packs but usually keep to the same hunting grounds. It is unusual to have found a Giadrome alone this far from the mountains."

A shadow danced across Rion's eyes and he drew his weapon, Idias soon doing the same. The two of them stood back to back, their eyes darting from tree to tree. Idias shouted something and Rion turned. His eyes fixed with the Giadrome's who was running towards them dodging beneath low branches. His mind flicked into action and pushing Idias behind him roughly, he cut the rope that held them together. He rushed forward, his eyes watching the tiny movement that would signal the action the beast would make. Suddenly they collided, Rion with his shield high and the monster with it's shoulder. Rion stumbled to the side then made footing and swung his sword with a great slash, then a lunge. Both swings missed, but the creature backed itself into a tree to avoid the fast attacks.

Then with lightning speed the Giadrome struck out, it's jaws clenching around Rion's sword arm and he screamed in agony as his armour crumpled under the pressure. He dropped his sword but swung at the creatures head with his shield ferociously, striking it over and over until it finally let go and backed off. His arm was now soaked in blood but his mind forced him to ignore it – the fierce mornings of beatings made sure he could forget his pain in the heat of a fight. He found his sword then arced it high and down slashing hard across the creature's shoulder – blood splattering onto the soft snow. The drome reared and screamed, leaping back a few paces before charging again, claws swinging. Rion's shield arm buckled under the attack and he took the next strike to the helm. The claws screeched along the metal and he tripped backwards, dazed. He swung blindly, his sword connecting with the creatures thick hide only to make it rear back again.

A surge of energy suddenly filled Rion again and he pushed himself up, raising his shield before him and keeping his sword arm ready for any move the monster might make. The two circled for a moment, neither daring to strike but ready to do so it a chance offered itself. The Giadrome screeched and leapt, forcing it's entire body on to Rion's shield and pushing the boy into the ground with a rough _whump!_

The air left Rion's lungs and he gasped for breath, desperately trying to get to his feet at the same time. The creature slipped and tumbled to the ground and he saw his chance. He swung down, crushing the arm of the Giadrome into the ground, almost completely severing it from the body. He drew back and swung down again, his hunters dagger growing dull with each hit against the thick hide. His sword glanced off with a hiss fleeing from his weakened grasp. Before he could find it, the enraged beast, an arm dangling limply and screaming symphonies of screeches and growls, lunged out and clenched its maw around his shield arm shoulder. The two fell to the ground and Rion screamed in agony as the creature shook it's head trying to tear off his entire arm. He punched over and over into the side of the creatures head but to no avail.

Idias shook with fear as he approached the two wrestling bodies. He raised his knife slowly and then swung weakly, the blade jittering along and off the hide, but irritated the creature enough to make it spin around and snap at Idias. Idias froze and then before he knew, the creature was upon him. His knife twisted away from his fingers and skittered on the snow. He frantically pushed the beasts snapping jaws back, punching and kicking to get it away from his face.

Adrenaline pumped through Rion's veins and he shook with anger as he witnessed his friend being viciously attacked. He picked up Idias's knife that lay on the ground beside him, rushed over to the melee and with a great roar lifted the blade high above his head. The knife tip drove through the Giadrome's white shoulder blade and burst out in a splatter of blood and bone from the collar, stopping mere inches from Idias's horrified face. The monster reeled him pain and bounded from Idias causing Rion to lose his grip on the handle. The beast screeched forlornly and then collapsed in a shuddering heap. Blood began to pool around it melting the snow and staining it crimson, the hilt of the knife still protruding from its back.

The wind whistled through the trees, an eerie wail after the fight. Rion felt lightheaded from the sudden exertion of energy and the speed of battle, coupled with his loss of blood, and he slumped to the snow. Idias crawled over quickly, his numb fingers scrambling at the latch on his satchel. The boy found the vial he was looking for and then pushing back Rion's head, ordering him to swallow. The green-stained liquid flowed down Rion's throat.

Idias stripped off the hunters armour, unbuckling the chest plate and gauntlet to reveal the boy's injuries. A ring of red dots pumped with blood, the edges already turning purple with bruising. Idias withdrew another vial of the greenish liquid and unstopped it. He withdrew a square of cloth and damped it with the oozing potion then rubbed the wounds clean. He then removed several rolls of bandages and wrapped the wounds tightly with them.

Rion looked up dazedly, and then a small smile flickered across his greying skin. "Good fight… huh?"

The physician returned the smile, and nodded, stumbling around the words he wanted to say. "It was. You fought like a true hunter. You are a hunter now, Rion. You've finally made it..."

The ghost of a smile danced across Rion's lips as he let the darkness roll over him again. He was a hunter. That was who he was. And Idias… Idias was the greatest friend a person could have.

_He was a hunter_.

* * *

The fire crackled and danced across his face. He stared deep into the flame then looked down at the smooth grey-blue rock in his hand. His sword rested on his lap and he ran the whetstone along the blade over and over, honing the edge to a fine sharpness. The unusual sword mystified him, its graceful curve and finely carved hilt. Indeed, he had grown a great fondness for it even though he had used it in real combat only once. The edges of the blade had chipped and dulled in the battle, and as one of the first lessons he had learnt – to keep your sword sharp at all times – he intended to do so.

Idias stepped from the tent rubbing his fingers together, in a cherry mood as always. The wind had backed down and the blizzard was but mere sleet now. The sun had dropped behind the mountains and it was their second day out on the expedition. Rion had healed quickly, his wounds stoppered but washed every hour and after he had gotten some food and wine into his system, he was as right as ever. He had even gone to the trouble of constructing a sling to make it easier to get the Giadrome's corpse back to the village.

Idias sat down beside Rion, feeding another stick onto the flame and then rubbing his hands to get them warm again. Rion studied him finding that he had also changed more quickly than he had realised. His mind had been so rigorously worked over the last five months he had taken little notice of his friend. The boy had lost weight on his face and had grown taller, taller now than Rion was. The short light brown hair he had so remembered had darkened and grown out and the beginnings of a beard were gathering on his chin. It only occurred to him then that he had changed much the same way, and he felt soft furs on his jaw and neck protruding out. His dark hair had been cut short, much in the same style Hunter Graye's had been. His eyes seemed to have change colour, once a vibrant azure, now a murky dark blue. The world was changing quickly around him and yet his daily routines had forced him into a motion of unthinkingness. However he felt a change was coming soon.


	6. Chapter 6

17/3/12 - Hey, guys, long time no see, huh? I thought I might start up this old story and see where I can get it to go. The next number of chapters I expect will be a bit dialogue heavy, although bear with it for a while until the next hunt. I'm also planning to go back and clean up the first part of this story. I am really aiming to build the characters and lore of the world, rather than just through action scenes everywhere. If that sounds like you thing, start reading! If not, then, well, read it anyway!

The sled groaned under the weight of the dead carcass as it was hauled up the mountain road.

Without the necessary equipment to build a cart, Idias and Rion had worked for most part of the morning to rig up a frame from branches and lash it with stripped tree bark and spare rope. The limp and bloodied body of the Giadrome lay on top, tied securely in place. Rion and Idias both had a length of the rope and hauled tiredly upwards, taking frequent breaks throughout the day.

By the time they reached the village it was nearing sundown. A hail was called from one of the town guards on post and a small group of villagers rushed down to help the two boys. Merriment and cheers meet Rion and Idias and soon much of those from the village square were flocking around the hunters and their prey. Laughter and joy filled the village for the first time since the attack as the sun slipped behind the mountains.

A small figure approached the crowd and the merriment quietened. "Well," said the village elder, a smile on her face, "Master Ymeti, it would seem you are late." A roar of laughter filled the square from the villagers. "Alas, it would seem like our small village has made a great decision. We own you much."

She turned to Idias who had been quiet and inconspicuous since the arrival. Now, however, all attention was turned to him. "But, I wonder, what service we own to Master Ut-ven? Did we not send you alone, Rion?"

"This is true," Rion said. "You did. But my friend Idias requested I have companionship on my quest, and was it not that he came with me I would have perished. I owe him my life, and the village owes him thusly."

A hush fell upon the crowd of villages. Idias was of lowly status within Pokke, a bastard and ill-fortuned. His mother had given birth to him out of wedlock, and stolen away one night when he was still a child, taking with her a prized possession of the village in her greed. Idias has since been raised by the villager's orphanage, and he remained now as one of the older children. The village elder had addressed him by the bastard name Ut-ven, long had his real surname disappeared with his mother and unknown father. While Pokke had no true highborn nobility since the passing of the elder's husband and former village keeper, there were still those below lowborn. Idias was one, and treated by many of the residents as a lesser villager because of it. Idias hated his parents with ever fibre of his body for this curse.

The village elder was quiet in thought. While Idias had provided the village with a great service, any recognition of status would cause anger among a number of villagers and council. Even Rion's own acknowledgement of Idias could put him at ill with some folk. One such stepped up beside the elder now, tall and aging, his face a chiselled mask and his garments rich and newly fashioned, no doubt traded for much coin during the festival. He was named Saevin Wyvernclaw, and he was a powerful figure within Pokke, standing only below the elder as leader of the council.

"I'm sure that the bastard was of some service to Sur Rion, but that does not change the fact that he is still lowly born and of a thief of a mother who was no less a whore." He said, cutting the silence. A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, although a number of others turned away and left. "Master Rion should accompany us to the guildhall, where we will feast and celebrate his actions for this village. The carcass will be attended to by the guards, who will take it to the smithy."

Rion felt the anger flush his cheeks, and he went to stand at defence of his comrade. But a firm hand gripped his arm and he turned to see Idias shaking his head. The crowd began to move towards the guildhall, excitedly discussing the events that had since occurred. "Leave it," Idias said quietly. "I do not wait for you to stand in my defence, nor should I be the source of your enemies. He speaks the truth after all; I am of lowborn and as such deserve no honour from this village. I expected no more when we set out."

The air suddenly felt chilly as the crowd moved away. Rion still felt the anger within him, but he knew Idias was right. He was not yet an accomplished hunter – he was a boy, no more. And where he felt injustice dealt to his friend, he also knew that he must show respect for the elders of the village. "I will save you some mulled wine and meat if I can," was all he said, and then embraced his friend.

Idias left him, then turned and said with a laugh, "it had better be hot, or don't bother bringing it down at all!"

Rion smiled weakly and watched as his friend disappeared down the stairs to the lower level, then he made his way up to the Guildhall.

Rion sat beside his mother who was hurriedly pilling the steaming food onto his plate, her face still stained with streaks from her tears of joy at his return. "When you did not return quickly, I feared the worst," she'd said he had embraced her. "I thought I had lost you. I could not bear to lose you, my son; you are all I have."

He had smiled quietly, and hugged her tighter. "I will never leave you, mother", he had said. "I promise you this. Father watches over me, and he will assure my oath."

The fire roared in the corner and smoke slipped up through the gaping hole in the roof where it had collapsed during the attack. Rion stared up at the damage dealt by the flying beast. He looked back down at his full plate, and although he was starving, he had no desire to stomach the food. Saevin's words had sapped the desire to eat from him, and the thought of Idias attending to his wounds on the hard, cold floor of the orphanage angered him.

A rough hand clamped his shoulder. The blacksmith, who sat beside him, a hulk of a man, bearded, and wrapped in filthy garments, roared for quiet as he shook Rion. "My boy," he said, "tell us of the hunt. Tell us of how you defeated that foul creature!" A cheer of approval came up from the others in the guildhall, and even his mother smiled encouragement.

The bloodied sword laid before him, as was custom during the meal after a successful hunt. He fingered the hilt and looked up at the eager faces. "To speak truly," he said quietly, so that many leaned closer to hear him, "I was terrified."

A number of the villagers looked uneasily at each other, but Rion continued. "I was more afraid then when before when I fought the flying beast that attacked our village. I have learnt that dwelling o the meet makes it much worse."

The hall was silent now, save for the fire and the sizzling popo. "When I first saw the beast rushing through the trees towards myself and… myself and Idias, and I saw its speed and size, I thought we would perish there. For how could two boys fight such a thing?

"But I drew my sword and we fought with the thing, hacking and slashing and cutting until we all were covered in blood and muck. The beast did not give up, gravely wounded as it was. He had me then, in the snow, its gaping horrid maws snapping before my face, ready to tear out my throat. It was there that I knew I would fail."

Again, a feeling of unease rippled through all those watching. Hunter's were fearless, were they not? What hunter could be afraid of the beast he hunted?

"It was then that Idias fearlessly attacked the beast to move it from me," Rion said, raising his voice so all could hear him clearly. "He risked his own limb to save me, and was it not for his deeds during battle, and those that healed my wounds afterwards, I would not be speaking to you all now."

Silence reigned in the hall, and unease showed clearly on those who listened. Suddenly a laugh and a clap broke the hush. Saevin stood up and continued clapping. "Well told, Sur Rion," he said with a smile that did not find his eyes. "Again, I must insist that you would have found victory whether the bastard was there or not."

"I disagree, Master Wyvernclaw," spoke up the blacksmith from beside Rion. "Were you there? Did you see it happen? Bastard or no, the boy Idias deserves recognition for his actions." A number of people in the hall agreed, with someone slapping the blacksmith on the back. "Hear him," cried another.

The hollow smile faded from Saevin's lips. "We have traditions, blacksmith," he said. "And you dishonour them with your words. The boy is an Ut-ven and his mother a thief and a whore; he deserves no place within Pokke, and yet you ask for him to be a figure to respect?"

"The boy had no control of the actions of those who sired him, blast it!" Cried the blacksmith, losing his temper.

Another council member stood up beside Saevin. "Master Saevin speaks truth. Perhaps the blacksmith is the father of the bastard Idias? Although no doubt his mother was shared by many men of the village before she fled!" He cried back with a grin, and was awarded with a barrage of laughter and a thundering of cups on the tabletops by many of those who agreed with him.

The blacksmith shook with anger and smashed his cup on the wooden bench, spilling his wine. He stood up and shook his fist at the two council members. "Mark my words," he said, "I owe the boy Idias no loyalty, but your foul words have angered me. Traditions, as you call them, should rightfully be forgotten. Your insults are such that you have made an enemy of my family name." He turned briskly and stormed from the guildhall, with many of his friends leaving with him.

Rion had sat quietly during this encounter, not wanting to anger the elders of the village but not wanting to injure the blacksmiths pride by telling him that there need be no fight. But he too now knew that whether he had intended to or not, he was now at ill relations with many of the people within Pokke for his words promoting Idias. The blacksmith and his family were prominent figures of Pokke, both rich and old. He knew that there was now a divide in Pokke, and he knew who allied with him, and who against.

He picked up his still full plate of food and left the hall to find his friend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - **_The Merchant and his Caravan_

* * *

Dawn crept over the Eastern peaks of the mountains. Pokke was lit with warm sunlight that lifted the freezing cold from the highest houses. Spires of smoke still streak upwards into the lightening sky as smouldering fires from the night smoked the last of their wood. The steps up were already with workers shifting the stream water through the village, and many of the woodcutters were already on their way to surrounding forest.

From the smithy the coal forge was already lit a blistering orange and with each pump of the bellows found the fire roaring with waves of heat. At the anvil Echos worked, hammering the length of iron he worked with. His blows hit with more vivacity than usual, and his brow was creased in a frown. He had begun work early, still furious over his encounter with Saevin the night just passed. But he was equally angry with himself.

He had let the drink go to his head, he knew, and had now a feud with another family. "Drunken old fool," he said, thrusting the iron back into the forge to wait for it glow yellow once more. His melynx agreed, and Echos snarled. "Get that fire going again, you little curse." The little creature chuckled merrily, unperturbed by his master's foul mood and began unhurriedly working the bellows.

The bell rung at the counter, and with a wipe of his brow on his apron, Echos went to the shop front. He was met by the boy hunter Rion, the source of his problem. But he could not begrudge the boy, and understood his friendship with the bastard.

"Master Rion," said Echos, his voice rumbling out from his thick beard. "I suppose you are here to collect your beast?"

"Uh, yes, I am," said Rion, averting his gaze to the counter, "although I also wanted to speak to you."

"Of course you did. Come inside, lad, and sit with me as I work and we can talk."

The workshop was surprisingly large, Rion thought as he stepped into the room. Slits along the roof let in the morning light and the forge fires kept the cold out. On one side a rack of fine weapons stood, long swords as tall as a man to bows made of horns. The blacksmith Echos had pulled the iron rod from the fire with his tongs and was busily hammering blows into its glowing yellow surface.

"See that sack to your right?" said Echos, and Rion turned to find large canvas bag slumped against the wall. "In there is what I could harvest from that creature you felled. Scales and bones and the like. Anything that was valuable."

Rion opened the bag ties and pulled out a scale, watching the orange fires of the forge glisten on its white surface. "How much do I owe you for this?"

"It was your first hunt; I shall not charge you this. There will be a price for further beats you bring to my workshop, though."

"And what do I do with these?"

"Keep them a prize or, better, give them to me and I will work them into something you can use, for a price."

"But we can talk of that later," said the blacksmith, thrusting the rod into the forge. "Now we discuss the accounts of the night just passed."

"I had best thank you," said Rion, with an incline of his head. "I do not expect you to stand in defence of Idias, thought, and I beg of you to end this disagreement with Wyvernclaw. I do not want to be the source of your family feuds."

"Pah," spat Echos. "Hardly a family feud. We were both in drink and I should wait for a while and it will be forgotten. Still, the man is a snake, and I care little for his barbarous traditions. I have never liked him or his council, and I hold more sway in this village than you perhaps think."

Rion remained silent for a moment, and then said, "But why is he so hated? Idias, I talk of. Like you said yourself, he had no control over his birth."

"Man will always seek to find reason to hate and belittle others," said Echos. "The tradition Saevin speaks of was one created to denounce lovers outside the boundaries of official unity. It serves only to injure those children of wedlock, however. Ut-ven, they are called. Spoken in the old tongue, it heralds 'out of indulgence.'"

"What of his mother? Did you know of her?"

"Aye," said Echos, turning back to the forge. "She was a fair woman. She kept to herself, mostly, and I only ever spoke to her once or twice in my long years in this village. More, I cannot say. Now, if you require nothing else, I must request your absence for I need to work."

Rion left the smith and made his way to his home to find a place for his sack of harvested parts, deep in thought.

Rion had skipped the morning drill due to his injured shoulder, but his eyes were fine, and he put them to good use pouring over tomes in the schools study. His mind continued to wander, however, and soon he was back in that forest, sword in hand, battling his foe. He danced with the creature in a rain of red.

He was brought from his reverie by distant cries outside. He listened for a moment to be sure that something was afoot, and then left the study quickly. When he reached the village square he saw what was the cause of the commotion. A band of men, ragged and bloody, were being directed and assisted towards the infirmary, and they soon disappeared inside.

Rion spotted Idias among the crowd and hailed him. "What is going on?" he asked, when they found each other. "Who were they?"

"Merchants," Idias said, looking towards the infirmary. "They claim to have been attacked on their path to Pokke by pack of tusked beast: bullfango. Come; as village hunter you will have permission to speak to them."

The two boys made their way through the crowd who were beginning to disband, no doubt to inform the rest of the village of the mornings happenings. Inside the infirmary they were met by the village elder and number of felynes attending to the wounds of the men. The captain of the guard was also there, with a number of his men by his side.

"These two spotted them making their way up the path," said the captain, gesturing at his men. "We rushed to their aid as quickly as we could."

"Very well," said the elder, with a nod. "You have done well, captain, and your men are to be commended for their quick action." She turned to face the two boys who were making their way towards the beds. "Ah, there you are Sur Rion. I was expecting your hasty presence. It would seem your skills may be needed once again. And Idias Ut-ven, too. Perhaps you would like to see to these men's wounds?"

Idias said nothing but nodded and approached one of the beds, pulling from the satchel at his waist a small vial of liquid.

"Idias explained that this was an attack by some creatures." said Rion, facing the elder.

"Foul beasts!"

Rion looked down to see one of the trying to sit on the bed. Straining, the man was helped by two felyne nurse, it took him a moment before he began to tell his story.

"We come from Arrlorm, seeking to sell you our wares and buy from you your mountain herbs. The path was long and hard, and we were eased to see the peaks of the Pokke mountains on the horizon, beckoning to us.

"With haste we drove our aptonoth along the road towards those sentinels. We knew something was amiss when we did not pass another traveller for many days; those roads are always busy during these summer months when the pass is open. And yet we saw only one man on his great saddled bird, and he did not stop when we hailed him.

"We continued, on through the pass and into the valley. Then, on the fourth night travelling the pass to your village, we heard sounds in the trees, of terrible grunting and snorting. We hastened our pace and our caravan guards brought out their weapons as we hurried the last while of our journey.

"But we were ambushed by the creatures soon after. One of the horned beast broke from the tree line and soon after the rest of the herd followed. They charged the caravan, screaming and grunting in rage. We fought for a while, holding them back, but then one father of these beasts appeared, twice as tall as a man with vast and terrible tusks the length of the carriage. It thundered down upon us and smashed our caravan to pieces, killing many of those who came with us."

The man looked down at his bandaged arm and hands, his voice quivering with emotion.

"You need not continue, good sur" said Rion, his heart heavy from the story. But the man continued. "The creatures felled my wife. She had insisted upon companionship with me, speaking of her wonder of seeing the great white mountains. I should have refused!" He cried in a wailing voice, his body shaking with sobs. "She did not desrve such a death, smite upon the tusks of some wild thing! Her blood split the snow at my feet, I remember, and I did not have the will to stay with her body. She lies now still in her own blood, likely mutilated by the wild and hungry daemons. Oh, why do I endure this pain? What god have I offended to see this wretchedness!"

The maerchant began to cough and gasp for air and he slid back into a sleep quickly, his body and mind exhausted.

Rion watched the man's broken body shudder with each breath. He looked over at the other men of the caravan, equally bloody and pained. He found Idias's weary eyes and between them they shared a moment of knowing. He turned to find he elder looking intently upon him, and with an incline of his head, he left the infirmary.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 -** _Blood and Memories_

* * *

The sky was a clear blue. High above the sun was a glowing orb, warming his cold and numb body as he travelled down the path. Behind him Idias followed, stopping constantly to pick at a bug or flower and find a place within his satchel for it. The boy revelled in the natural, Rion knew. He was talented with the tools of a physician, and tended well to Rion's injuries. But among the village he was still as bastard and as such many would not permit him to help them, so strong was their hatred of lowborn. And yet the two boys still found friends among the prominent in Pokke.

The blacksmith and his family treated them both well. He had even provided them with tools before they set out – sharpening stones, flints and hooks, should they need to scale rock. The tailor, or dressmaker, as she preferred to be named, also provided them with a sturdy length of rope which Rion now carried in a loop across his chest. His teacher, too, provided them with equipment, including a map of the area they headed towards, and salted meats, bread and cheese. Idias carried all else they required, his satchel brimmed with tonics to keep away the cold, and herbs and medicines to assuage pain.

A surge of energy filled him as he thought of going on the hunt again. It lightened his heavy heart that he felt for the merchant and his caravan. He had silently made an oath to himself that he would find and punish revenge on to the creatures that had slaughtered the man's wife and livelihood. As hunter of this region it was his duty to keep the area safe for those seeking travel along the roads, and he had failed thus far. But he would not allow any more harm come to travellers if he had the ability to do so, and this idea filled him with a mix of emotions; of pride, and honour and duty for his village. He knew now the responsibility he carried on his shoulders, but he was willing to bear it – for if he did not, who else would?

The path from Pokke was a long and slow one, but one that gifted them a precious view of the mountain ranges, forests and lakes below. While he walked he found the river that nourished his village and the farm, and followed it until it broke into a large lake at the base of a mountain, way in the distance. Squinting against the light, he sought the mountain's peak among the cloudless sky. It towered solemnly, watching over the valley and the forest and its inhabitants.

"Rion!" cried Idias.

"What is it?" said Rion as he spun to find his friend not behind him. "Where are you?"

"Over here! Look, look at what I have found. A dragon toadstool!" He held up the little red mushroom, his face bright with merriment. He carefully placed it on the road and found a glass vial in his satchel to house the little fungus plant.

"Is that all?" said Rion, irritated. "I thought something had happened. Don't frighten me like that." He turned, his mood darkened again, and continued along the path.

Idias caught up. "Do you know how rare these are?" he said, shaking the container before Rion's eyes. "I have only before read of them. They are highly poisonous, you see, and a single bite of it could kill a man."

"That is very well," said Rion, "but I find no use for it. Did you feel like dispatching someone?"

"Not at all!" cried Idias. "I heal, not injure. I merely want it for my collection. I must preserve it when we return to Pokke. Perhaps I may be able to study it, and find uses for it other than its raw capabilities."

"Perhaps," said Rion.

They camped by the river the first night. A small raised ledge with a hollow provided them some relief from the wind that had picked up in the afternoon. The sun was now behind the western mountains, and the sky a clear darkness, lit with brilliant sparks of light. The fire crackled and threw shadows on the rocks, and Rion sat, honing the edge of his sword with water and whetstone. Idias attended to the fire when it needed encouragement, but otherwise sat with his vials of insects and plants, studying them with a small lens under the fire's light.

Morning came slowly, and the two boys were already packed and ready before the sun had left the comfort of the eastern peaks. They followed the road, and it was not soon after they had started off that they spotted a bloody wreck blocking the path.

The caravan had been three carriages long, and each were as decimated as the last; hulks of splintered wood and snapped frames lay curdled one after the other. But Rion did not care for the wooden shells – his eyes lingered on the tangled bodies at his feet, broken and twisted from the fight. The blood had long since dried in the dirt, and old snow was still stained with red. Bile rose in his throat as the stench of rot filled his nostrils, and he turned away, searching the treeline instead for any sign of the creatures.

All was still and silent.

"The bodies have not been fed upon." said Rion, turning to his friend.

"Bullfango do not consume meat – they are omnivores," said Idias, crouching beside a fallen man.

"And yet they still attacked the caravan."

"This is true, although they are still creatures of violence."

"No doubt something will seek out these bodies before long. The bullfango must have driven away many of the creatures that inhabit this area, but I would not expect that to remain so for long. We should bury who we can, and assure the merchant that his wife rests easy now." Rion turned to search for a woman among the bodies when his eyes spotted creature, not far away. It was looking at him, one of its paws trawling the earth.

"Idias! Draw your weapon; they are here!"

With a snort the creature charged, thundering down upon the boys, head lowered and tusks searching. Rion took cover behind his shield, and cried for Idias to find cover among the wrecks of the caravan.

Then the creature was upon him, and he moved to the side, swinging his sword wildly in the directing of the beast. The blade connected with the fur and he felt it cut deep, splattering the snow and dirt with dark red blood. The bullfango screeched in pain and tossed its body around. Rion threw his shield up at he last moment and caught the tusk with a resounding thud. He saw an opening and dashed his sword downwards, leaving a deep vertical slash on the neck of the raging beast. Blood pulsated quickly from the wound, and Rion found his distance, waiting for the creature to attack again.

But it did not. Rather, it toppled sideways and thrashed about in a growing pool of its own blood until, eventually, it lay still.

Rion felt the tension leave his limbs, and he took a few mouthfuls of air, revelling in his victory.

"Rion! Behind you!" cried Idias from the top of a carriage. Rion spun, and he felt the bottom of his stomach plunge into an awful emptiness. At a distance he saw a great beast the size he had never witnessed, save for the flying wyvern that attacked his village. The merchant had not exaggerated; rather, he spoke little of it. Rion watched the monster, easily four times as large as the one h just slew, and felt his limbs freeze with fear.

The beast charged, the earth beneath Rion's feet quivering with each step of the mighty monster. Rion was back, facing the flying creature, staring into its eyes. He could see the desire for death in its eyes as they peered into him. He could feel something roiling within him, like kinder caught with a small flame heating the frozen realm of his body. A cry from Idias sounded, and his voice was like a vessel of oil tossed onto the flame. The spark flared into a raging torrent and he was alive again, energy rushing through his limbs and sending him forward.

Rion ran around the charging creature, who was unable to change direction quick enough, and slashed at the monsters side. His sword scraped along the length of the thick hide, slicing the white fur from its place but not piercing to the flesh.

With a snorting and grunt, the bulldrome leapt around and Rion stepped back, the massive tusk breaking the air where he was standing. He hacked down again, connecting with the tusk with a loud _clack! _Then threw up his shield as the tusk found his place. The ground moved from under him as he was thrown backwards, the air escaping his body on impact. The bulldrome was on top of him, and he tossed himself to the side as a massive tusk embedded the earth where he was laying. Throwing himself to his feet, he again leapt past the bulldrome, seeking an opening to attack.

He could not find one however, and he danced madly to the side to evade an attack. Then an idea came to him.

With a sudden burst of vigour, he dashed towards the caravan, the bulldrome rearing and beginning a charge behind him. Moments before he was trampled, he ran between two carriages and dived to the earth. Behind him, the bulldrome slammed into the wooden hulks its tusks anchored beneath one of the wrecks.

As the monster thrashed violently to get free, Rion found his feet again and hacked with his sword, slashing at the face of the beast. Terrible screams filled the air and the beast tossed its great head from side to side. One of the carriages shattered further and the beast was free, lumbering through the wreck to get to Rion. But Rion knew he now had the advantage, and he hurried to the top of a carriage in a scrambling bound. The wreck shuddered and listed to one side, and Rion felt his legs slide out from beneath him as the bulldrome battled through the wreckage.

And then he was sliding down the roof and on top of the beast. His sword long-lost, he gripped with all his strength to the tufts of fur on the monsters back, digging his feet into the haunch of the beast to give him more purchase. He knew he was in an ill place. Should the bulldrome tumbled sideways or smash into the carriage, he would be crushed. But before he let go, he would hurt the beast. His hand found the knife at his belt and he drew it, driving it with all his strength into the side of the monster, over and over again. Blood spewed from the wound, and in the monsters sudden rage, he was tossed off, falling hard among the wreckage.

He was trapped now, the beast blocking the exit to the broken carriage. He dragged himself backwards, his arms aching and head spinning from the blow when he landed, and pushed himself into the corner. The bulldrome drove its mighty head inside, tearing wood from the sides and roof of the carriage and shaking the whole thing to and fro. The monster pushed further inside, endearing to crush Rion with one of its tusks. Rion let forth a mighty cry as he kicked vivaciously with his right leg, pounding his foot into the nose of the beast as well he could.

A twang sounded from outside the carriage and the bulldrome let forth a powerful roar. Another sounded again, and the monster was suddenly pulling from the carriage, worming and thrashing to remove its stuck tusks, lifting the carriage from the ground. Rion slid downwards towards the creature, and saw his opportunity to be freed. Using the creature's head, he bounded upwards and through the broken roof, then promptly tossed himself to the ground.

From the haunch and belly of the beast protruded a number of feathered shafts. Idias struggled with the great bow, drawing back shakily and firing another arrow into the creature's side. Rion struggled to his feet, found his sword in the snow and then dashed to the creature, plunging the blade into the underside of its belly repeatedly until blood and innards spilled in great gushes on the earth.

And then, with a last shuddering breath, the monster lay unmoving.


End file.
